Ya know what,J? I DO have something to say. I will not go quietly. It isn’t as if you ever let me know that you had one speck of love for me.
Was I supposed to read between the insults and avoidances? Was I supposed to take you saying that I look like Ursula or a Dingle Berry as a flattering compliment? For real? Oh, and when you said that I was immature and I am like a sister? That was supposed to let me know?
Oh. And whatever letters that you have or have not written here that have been so “transparent”, are at the very least shrouded with a dark veil that is too heavy for me to lift. So whatever you think, just remember, I think the complete opposite.
Yes, I am hurt. I am angry with you. You think one way and I think the opppsite. We feel each other, but we are both too busy trying to pick each other’s brains to actually recognize the feeling for what it is.
You don’t show me any reason to take off my mask and show you my true self, and when I did, you only reminded me that your heart is held by another and she is the reason that you can’t ever give your heart away again.
I know u hide just as I do. It’s a safety/protection thing. Just as it is for me. so why then can’t u understand? I do.
I mean, you don’t even speak to me if I am the only person in the room. And I am supposed to take that as meaning “Oh, he just wants me to try harder. He is hiding his love!” Ugh. For real? Nah, it’s more like, “He hates me, and thinks I am pathetic. I should leave him alone, because I look like a fool trying to be frindly.”
You no longer hug me, or even respond to my “I love you”s. When I said, “I love you” last, your response was, “I’ll be okay.” Really? What does that even mean?
All you tell me is how I press for you and you have all but convinced me that I am insane. I am crazy. I am imagining my dreams and those mutterings you uttered last year… last spring, last fall.
As u have said (if it was you) it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even matter.
Not because of our circumstances, but because love, romantic love doesn’t really exist does it? No, it doesn’t. Valentines Day and other commercial like proprietories have capitalized love. They have made it into this mockery. They fantasize lust and intensity, causing us to fear what is really real.
Or am I crazy? You tell me.
I hope you don’t drown, BTW. Just as you hope I don’t dry up. We both run from each other. Well, I for one am sick of it. I’d rather dry up and die than to feel deep down that this is real, yet still question my sanity because you are too afraid to admit the truth: that (on a soul level) you are me and I am you. It’s okay to be afraid. I have been there. I am still there. But I believe now. It’s you. You are the reason I have never felt complete, and if I do dry up, if I die… like everyone, then I die knowing. Pèrhaps in another life…
If you ever stumble upon these words, J, just remember how wonderful and how special you are. And never forget how to reach out, if you feel love.
And I have tried to not love you. I have tried to morph this love into something else. I have tried to anger mysef at you and end in hatred. I have tried it all. I have tried. I have. I cant think of anything else to do. It’s just… there.
I apologize. I never wanted this. I never meant for this to happen.
Goodnight. I tried to stop craving you. I tried to stop loving you.